A Question of Lust
by the.goal.is.greatness
Summary: Is it love? Is it lust? Whatever it is, I can't get enough. [Kirk x Sulu]


**Title:** A Question of Lust  
**Genre:** Romance  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing:** Kirk x Sulu  
**Spoilers:** N/A  
**Summary:** Is it love? Is it lust? Whatever it is, I can't get enough.  
**Word Count:** 3,891  
**Warnings:** N/A

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary is from _Love or Lust_ by The Scorpions

**A/N:** Obviously a slight AU after Star Trek: Beyond, since in this version Sulu isn't married. To be fair, I've had the vague idea for this written down in my list of FF idea for _years_, so when I thought of it, that wasn't something I was trying to plot around.

* * *

1.

It had started with that stupid mission on Vulcan. Adrenaline was high, terror thick and cloying in his throat. That tends to happen when you hurl yourself towards a planet going a billion miles per hour (or something close, whatever, Jim wasn't wearing a stop watch at the time). Then one of your crewmates dies from being an idiot and you have to fight some Romulans on a drill that's on a planet that's about to implode.

So, yeah, emotions were high.

"_Nngh – fuck!_"

And there was no outlet – nowhere for it to go. There was no one here on this ship that Jim could pour this pent up tension into. He didn't really _know_ anyone except for Bones, and, uh, no, not going there. All he could do was hope he found someone else who was as desperate as he was.

"_Yessss_…"

The word hisses out in a sinful susurrus and Jim thanks whatever deity or alien being or whatever that lives in this sector of space that he had found someone like that. Itching and antsy, he'd walked into the turbolift and found himself suddenly completely alone with Hikaru Sulu, who looked like his skin would fidget right out of his clothes. Blue eyes darkened with the thought, and without even pausing to think about how this was probably the dumbest thing he'd done today (well, maybe the second dumbest), he slammed the lift to a stop. Sulu had barely opened his mouth to ask 'what the hell' before Jim had crowded into his space and pushed him back into the wall, mouth slanted down firmly over his.

There is brief moment where Jim hopes – prays – that he isn't pushed away, before the front of his shirt is gripped tightly and he is yanked closer. Amen, hallelujah, and peanut butter.

He knows there is only so many minutes before someone notices the lift is not moving and wonders why. But he has been keyed up for hours, he's wound so tight if anyone touched him right now he'd explode. Dangerous situations did that to him. Sometimes he wondered if it was normal, sometimes he didn't care. Right now he sure as hell didn't care, not when this badass who could sword fight Romulans on a teetering drill was clearly as hyped up as he was.

He wants to be closer, he wants skin on skin, but there's no time, there's no – a long leg hooks over his hip suddenly and pulls closer and he falls forward a few more inches into the swell of hips. It puts their erections in perfect alignment and Jim's eyes roll back in his head at the feeling. He's dimly aware of a thud as Sulu's own head slams back into the wall, but he can't think of anything besides the release he's been chasing for hours.

He rocks against those hips and the friction of tight Starfleet slacks over his length, so tight he can feel Sulu's own _so fucking close _pressed up against him, is so amazing he keens high and tight. There's an answering groan from the man in front of him, and he knows this isn't going to last long. Good.

Moving swiftly, his hands slam onto wither side of Sulu's head. Jim's face falls onto the shoulder in front of him. "Hold on." He barely gives Sulu the time to wrap both his legs and arms around him, before he's thrusting harshly into that cloth covered heat against his own.

"_Holy – fuck! Ah, ah, ah!_"

It doesn't take long. Ten thrusts and the tension in his gut spirals and shatters, his legs trembling as he comes in his pants dry-humping like he hasn't since he was a teenage in Iowa. Only the answering wetness against him mollifies him.

* * *

2.

The second time it is boredom. And isn't that probably the sluttiest thing Jim Kirk has ever said. The crew is stuck in San Francisco, waiting for the repairs on the Enterprise to be completed. The idea of being the captain of his own ship and being out in space is so close he can taste it, and Jim is started to feel reckless and bored and that is a terrible combination. So he finds himself sneaking onto the ship – _his_ ship – in the middle of the night, after the repairman have all retired, hoping to occupy his time somehow.

But nothing works, there's no power, so he finds himself sitting in his captain's chair staring at the black window before him. When the door is pushed open behind him, he almost has a heart attack, but the reflection in the display in front of him shows a just as surprised Hikaru Sulu.

"Uh, Kirk, sorry I was just – "

He waves off his apology as the helmsmen walks closer. "You were probably just doing what I was doing, looking to poke around in our new ship." He grins, charming. "Am I right?

"Yeah, but nothing is works." Sulu is finally in front of the captain's chair. "There's nothing to do." He comes to a halt and his eyes leave Jim's face to take in the way he's sprawled across the chair – all artless grace and contained power. Jim can't help but fidget when he remembers suddenly, vividly, what it was like a few weeks ago to rut up against that lithe body. He wonders what it would be like to do more… "Well, maybe not nothing…"

Blue eyes open wide when Sulu suddenly drops to his knees in front of him and palms him through his pants. They're denim and much more firm that the Starfleet uniform, but the feeling is still fucking fantastic. He's arching into the pressure without a thought, hands tight on the chair.

"What – " His head falls back when the pressure increases. Fuck, think about numbers, think about Spock, think about – "_Holy shit_." Sulu has inched Jim's legs apart so he can slide in between and those long, elegant fingers are swiftly undoing the button and zipper in front of him. Bones says he's a man-whore fore going commando, but right now it means that as soon as that zipper is eased down, Jim's length springs free. There's a split second of cold air, and then he's engulfed in moist, warm heat and he head falls back.

"Oh fuuuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." He's forgotten other words, can only manage this mantra. He gives an incoherent jerk of his hips, but then there's a firm set of hands on him, that slide his ass to the very edge of the chair. He can't thrust in this position without falling off, but Sulu slides even closer and when he swallows thickly Jim's eyes go blind at the feeling. "_Fuck!_ Holy, I – I can't, oh please, shit, don't stop, please, ah, ah – I need, I need – " One eye slits open, but that's worse, he can see their reflection in the display. His cheeks flushed, his eyes hazy, a dark haired head bobbing fiercely up and down in his lap. "Please, fuck, fuck – "

Sulu releases him with a wet pop that makes Jim string off another set of expletives. "Just tell me what you need – " There's a completely devilish glint in Sulu's eyes when he purrs, _"Captain_."

The title – the first person to ever utter to him on the Bridge, makes his heart lurch in his throat. He groans and it turns into a gasp when a delicate tongue sneaks out to lave at his tip. With a sudden forward motion, he's engulfed again, and this time Sulu hums around his mouthful and Jim keens as he comes.

* * *

3.

The third time it's retaliation, plain and simple. Jim hasn't liked the thought that Sulu has made him blow his load and then, cheekily wiping a bit of the captain off his chin, left the bridge, feigning curfew. Bullshit. That little fucker thought this was funny and Jim would be damned before he let someone take advantage of him like that.

He forcibly pushed down the thought that maybe he just wanted to know what Sulu tasted like.

He spend the first two weeks of his captaincy waiting for the perfect opportunity and one evening after his shift had ended, it presented itself.

Sulu was exiting one of the botany bays, a botany bay that Jim just happened to know would be hosting a meeting that Spock was running with of the new science staff in, oohhh, about 1 minute. His grin, when it slide across his face, was devious. When he grabbed Sulu by the arm and pushed him back inside, the other man was confused, but not concerned. Not until Jim kept shoving until he had fit the two of them into a storage closet near some of the benches.

"Captain, what – " Ignoring the thrill that title still sent through him, Jim held up his finger in front of his mouth. Quiet. Sulu arched a brow in a motion that was really more Spock than him, and was about to continue speaking when a group of voices entered the room. Sulu's eyes narrowed. "What – "

A swift hand was placed over that mouth and Jim leaned forward so he could breathe his question right into a soft ear. "Can you keep quiet?" He didn't give Sulu a chance to respond, merely pushed his loose hand inside the fabric of the man's slacks and began to trail fingertips along the sensitive skin underneath a bellybutton, slowly, so slowly, inching downwards.

Hazel eyes were darkening with lust, when a voice rang out about all the others in the next room. "Attention, cadets, as you may know, I am Commander Spock, the Enterprise's First Officer – "

Those eyes were wide with shock, only now understanding what Jim meant to do. Jim grinned as his fingers found what they were looking for, and oh, look what we have here – someone was certainly interested in this turn of events.

"Looks like you're having a little problem," he whispered into that ear. "I'll help you out, but you have to promise to be very, very quiet." Without waiting for conformation, he dropped to his knees, hands leaving, and mouths that erection through the tight pants. Sulu's head slammed back into the wall, but there was no hitch in conversation from the adjoining room, so Jim continued his ministrations. When Sulu was thrusting shallowly against his face, Jim reached up and pulled the slacks down.

When the cold air of the storage room struck him, Sulu hissed, but the breath choked in when Jim huffed on him, like when you warm your hands in the cold. He was going to savor this. So he leaned forward, bypassing where Sulu clearly wanted him the most, and instead left a trail to teeth and tongue first up one thigh and then down the other. Sulu was shifting restlessly, palms splayed flat against the wall he was leaning on. When Jim nosed into the junction between his erection and his thigh, tongue out to brush a teasing touch against one of his balls, he made an abortive noise in his throat.

He glanced up, eyes glinting. "I guess I'll have to give you something to keep you quiet." Jim felt the tremble in the long thighs before him, like he were prepared to collapse to the group and occupy his mouth like he had on the Bridge, but Jim was quicker. He reached up with one hand and shoved two fingers abruptly into Sulu's mouth. "There," and with that, he leaned forward and swallowed him down.

At the first motion, Sulu bit harshly on his fingers trying to keep in the cry that was coiling in his chest. Jim hissed around his mouthful and gave a cautionary brush of his own teeth to his own mouthful. The brief flare of pain made Sulu arch backwards like a bowstring, taunt and tight. He sucked harshly on the fingers in his mouth, needing to do something before he exploded.

Jim could feel an echo of the feeling on his fingers on his cock and he reached down with his free hand to press the heel of his palm against himself.

From the other room, Spock's voice droned on, a relentless hum of noise that continuously reminded them where they were. "Some plants need a delicate touch though, however – "

Jim yanked his fingers from the wet pocket of Sulu's mouth with a pop and reached back with the saliva slick hand to press against the tight ring of muscles behind. Harsh panting was coming from above, but no noise of complaint, no tenses, so Jim swirled the finger soothingly a few times before, with a hard, distracting suck, slid one in to the knuckle.

"A-!" The cry breaks off as abruptly as it starts when Sulu bites his own forearm to keep quiet. There is a sudden lull of noise in the botany lab and when Jim looks up, Sulu's eyes are wide with the fear they will be found. But his erection is still hot and hard in Jim's mouth, so Jim just quirks a brow and swirls his finger and his tongue in perfect unison. Brown eyes roll back and Sulu's free arm suddenly grips Jim's shoulder with bruising force. Sulu holds him there, panting harshly through his nose, until they hear the sound of the lecture resume.

Then suddenly Sulu is using that hold on his shoulder to rock Jim back and forth. With every forward motion of Jim's head Sulu would give a shallow thrust and with every backwards motion against that finger he would give a hiccupping breath. Jim suddenly, irrationally, wanted to hear him. He wanted to know what kind of noises he could make come out of that mouth when he swirled his finger just so, when he pressed just this way.

Sulu rocked against him, movements becoming more and more frenzied, less smooth. Jim finally crowded him closer, stilling those hips against the wall, pinning his own hand underneath him, where he pressed continuously against that spot all the way inside that was making Sulu try and arch against the feeling, When he found he couldn't, he gave a muffled keen. So Jim pulled back his lips and dragged his teeth, so lightly, up his entire length. He closed his mouth over the head just seconds before Sulu was spurting in his mouth, hot and salty and thick. The noises he was making sounded like sobs, but when Jim looked up, his eyes were fixed on the sight before him, pupils wide with desire.

* * *

4.

Life aboard the Enterprise is busy and exciting and thrilling and _busy_, so it isn't until months later, when Kirk wakes in his hospital bed, Khan's blood dripping into him, half-incoherent with pain, that he realizes how long it has been since they touched.

The lights in the room are dim, the sounds coming from the hall muted. It must be after visiting hours, but Sulu is slumped over him, head resting heavily on Jim's stomach, the source of most of his pain. He's heavy with unconsciousness and Jim is loathe to move him, but when he tries to shift in a more comfortable position, Sulu's head shoots up.

He's blinking sleep from his eyes swiftly. "J – Captain!" His eyes are frantic, bloodshot with exhaustion and he grabs at Jim's hands almost desperately. "You're awake!" If either of them notice the tremor on the last word, they don't say anything. "Do you need me to get Doctor McCoy?"

"No – " His voice cracks with disuse and it is only after Sulu helps him drink an entire cupful of water that he tries to speak again. "No, god he'll mother-hen me right back to death." When Sulu's face pales and shutters closed, Jim drops the teasing smile. "Hey – it's okay, I'm okay."

"You were dead, Captain. You were _dead_." His hands are bruising in their grip but Jim does nothing to pull his away. "I – We thought that was it." His hand reaches out, almost hesitantly, afraid of dismissal, to brush reverently against the hair on Jim's forehead. "I – I – "

Jim reaches out to press his hand against a smooth cheek. "It's okay, man. I'm not going anywhere."

Sulu slumps at that, shoulder crowding into the swell of Jim's shoulder, stretching his legs out beside him on the small hospital bed. One hand falls to rest on Jim's neck, fisting in the hair at the nape, the other stays twined with Kirk's hand. He curves his face into Jim's side and moments later they are both asleep.

If Bones checks on them before they wake, they don't notice or ask, and he never says anything.

* * *

5.

With Khan's superhuman blood, Kirk bounces back quicker than Bones deems normal, but no one but him his complaining. The first night they are all aboard the Enterprise a week later, Sulu practically glows with contentment as Jim takes him place in the captain's chair.

And later that evening, when their shifts are over, they walk back to their separate quarters side-by-side. At Jim's door, they pause. "Well, this is me," Jim says unnecessarily as he keys in his code. The door swooshes open as Sulu hums in agreement. He's watching a pair of cadets turn the corner. "So what are – !" The moment the cadets turn at the end of the hall, Sulu turns and shoves Kirk back into his room. The door whooshes closed behind the two of them.

They stare at one another in the dim cabin light for a moment. Jim is taken off guard, but he can roll with it. Sulu is breathing hard. Nervous, maybe. But his pupils are blown wide and he's staring at Kirk like he might vanish at any moment. Well, fuck it.

In two strides, Jim has Sulu pinned to the back of the door, and he mashes their mouths together. Sulu's legs are around his waist and Jim hitches him upwards, up high, so that it is Sulu who is slanting his mouth down over his captain's. He seems to approve of this position, humming low in his throat, nails dragging again Jim's scalp in a possessive manner.

Why had they never kissed before? Jim is disappointed in himself that he could have been doing this all along – stolen kisses were so much easier than… other things… and if he had known Hikaru Sulu could kiss like this he would have been doing a hell of a lot more of it. He pulls back just enough to breathe and gets a glimpse of wide lust-filled eyes, before Sulu's mouth descends on his neck, nipping and sucking. His head tilts to the side of its own accord, as a shiver works his way directly to his groin.

"Dammit – _ah fuck it!_" With that Jim links his arms under the legs wrapped around him and heaves upwards, before turns and heading for the bed. Sulu gives a muffled squeak at the sudden motion – probably not used to being carried to bed like a damsel. He squeaks again when he's tossed onto the mattress, eyes indignant. But seconds later Jim is peeling out of his shirt, so he scrambled to do the same. Then, when Jim presses him down, they're chest-to-chest, hands already scrambling at buttons and shoes.

With each slide of new skin against each other, they hiss and sigh and moan. Until finally, blissfully, they are completely bare, and sliding against sweat slicked skin, hot and writhing and _naked_.

"Oh fuck yes," one of them, or both of them, breathe out the benediction, with a revenant sigh. There is fumbling and adjusting, a glide of wet fingers before the urgency and need have spiraled too high. Then, with his teeth clenched tightly to keep him focused, Jim sinks into to the most perfect, hot, tight, heat. "Shit, shit, shit." He clenches his eyes closed, holding perfectly still. It has taken him almost a year to get to home plate with Hikaru Sulu (and isn't that just a bitch) and he'll be damned if he'll one pump Chuck this shit. When Sulu shifts beneath him, Jim groans from somewhere deep inside of him. "D-don't move, shit… _fuck_… I don't want to… _ah!_"

Sulu shifts again, more insistently. "C-captain, I – "

"Call me Jim, damn." He chuckled and the movement makes Sulu arch against him, makes Jim slide in a little deeper. "I think you can call me that when I'm balls deep inside you."

He clenches his muscles pointedly. "But I know how much you love to hear me call you captain." Another clenching of those inner walls that makes Jim's vision go a little white around the edges. "_Sir_."

And that's all it takes to get Jim moving, grabbing on tawny thigh and hitching it over his shoulder so he can sink deep, deeper, deepest. Until it's Sulu throwing back his head, eyes wide and blind, revealing the long, gasping line of throat. Jim can't help but marking it, making hands scramble at his shoulder. The rhythm he sets is hard and fast, he can't keep it up forever, but it doesn't matter. With every jerk of hips he's wound tighter and tighter. One of Sulu's hands fists white-knuckled in his hair, the other racks tracts down the length of Jim's spine with his nails; his heels are digging into the back of Jim's thighs, helping him to rock closer and closer.

"Captain… Jim… ah, ah, ah." He's thrashing his head from side to side, wailing, searching, needing – Jim feels the tautness in his lower belly and knows he only has moments left. So he slides a hand between them, taking a firm grip against Sulu's weeping length and, as he pumps it in time with his thrusts, he leans up to place his mouth beside Sulu's ear. "Come on, Hikaru."

Muscles go bowstring tight and his mouth opens in a wordless cry. With the splash of release against their stomachs, Sulu's inner walls clamp like a vice, and Kirk stutters into his release mid-thrust "_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_" Each cry is a wavering drive into the boneless body below him, until he is spent.

He collapses on top of Sulu, shaking and panting. Jim starts when a hesitant hand reaches up to caress the hair at the back of his neck. When he jumps, the motion stills, but no, that isn't what it wanted. "Hm," he slumps more dead weight into his human pillow, heedless of the mess between them and the sweat drying on their skin. "That's nice." Slowly the motion resumes. He smiles against the skin below his face, content for what feels like the first time in years.


End file.
